


Potioned

by RainReina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainReina/pseuds/RainReina
Summary: A silly piece of smut in three parts. If there was ever something that could dampen Hermione Granger’s excitement about an international, interdisciplinary academic conference, it was having to attend it with Severus Snape. OR so she thought. ;) But Hermione has made some enemies in her brief time as Snape's apprentice. And you shouldn't accept beverages from people you don't trust.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 42
Kudos: 374





	1. The Conference

**_AN: SOOOOOO I want to preface this by saying it’s a little bit DIFFERENT… maybe a little WEIRD… but I just couldn’t get it out of my head. This is the first of three chapters. It’s not quite done, but the second chapter is almost there, so I’ll try to update soon. I promise I have chapters in the work for Her Shocking Fate AND even The Libidinus Curse (which I have not abandoned!), but this just wanted to be written, so… here it is. Let me know what you think. *sweats nervously*_ **

**……………..**

If there was ever something that could dampen Hermione Granger’s excitement about an international, interdisciplinary academic conference, it was having to attend it with Severus Snape. She had only apprenticed under him for a month and already she was wishing she could take back the decision. Charms was the obvious choice. She loved Charms. She was brilliant at Charms. And Filius Flitwick would have been an excellent tutor. But  _ no _ … she had wanted a  _ challenge _ . She had wanted something more dangerous, more complex. And, if she were honest with herself, she had been intrigued by the idea of working for the ex-spy. 

Idiot.

The library ballroom was full of chatter and sparkling light when they arrived at the opening reception of the conference. Hermione’s stomach gave a little flip. The room was full of familiar faces, none of whom she had ever met in person. 

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh and turned to look down his impressive nose at her. “I suppose you expect to attach yourself to me all evening," he said, his face twisting with disgust.

Hermione glared up at the insufferable man, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. It was true she had hoped he would introduce her around, as he  _ knew _ so many of the people here and she was his  _ apprentice,  _ after all. But she’d be damned if she was going to admit that to him. “Oh, I think I’ll get along just  _ fine _ without you,” she said, sticking her chin in the air. 

He lifted an eyebrow in doubtful surprise. “Excellent,” he purred, enunciating each syllable the way he always did when he wanted to irk her. Then he spun on his heel and stalked away, leaving her standing in the middle of the floor, all alone. 

She cast her eyes around the room, unsure where to go or who to talk to first. There were loads of people here she’d love to talk to, but how to approach? She was new to this game. They were all standing around in groups with one another, most of them clearly familiar, and almost all of them sipping glasses of champagne. 

Then her gaze locked with that of the last person she wanted to see here. Mathilda Rothford was not as beautiful as the photos of herself stamped all over her merchandise--her pale skin not as luminous, her black curls not as lustrous--but there was a cunning sparkle in her glittering black eyes. She gave Hermione a half-smile, took two glasses of champagne from a young chinless wizard in serving robes, and crossed the floor toward the other witch. 

Hermione froze. If she didn’t know what to say to the dozens of witches and wizards in this room whose work she admired, she certainly didn’t know what to say to the one witch whose unethical practices she had personally put an end to. 

“Hermione Granger,” said Mathilda in a breathy voice that didn’t quite pass for natural, “we meet at last.” She tipped her head back and let out a sultry laugh. 

“Mathilda,” said Hermione, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “if this is about your skin cream…” 

“Oh no, darling girl, don’t you worry about that. We are all academics here. All striving toward the best and brightest future. Here,” she said, handing Hermione one of the champagne flutes, “call it a peace offering.” 

Hermione looked skeptically down at the glass. 

Mathilda let out another hearty laugh. “It isn’t poison!” she said, putting a hand to the black velvet “V” cut low between her breasts. 

Hermione gave her an apologetic half-smile and took a sip of the drink. “It was nothing personal, you know,” she said. 

“Oh, I  _ know _ ,” said Mathilda, “just a small fine of 30,000 galleons and probably an end of my practice when it’s all said and done.” Her grin began to slide into a grimace and she leaned in toward Hermione, whispering very loudly for dramatic effect, “but that’s business for you! You are very clever, aren’t you?” 

“Er… well,” said Hermione, taking another sip, “actually, it was Prof-Severus Snape who caught on, you know. And he probably wouldn’t have said anything. To be honest, I probably never would have noticed, but once he had pointed it out…”

“Yes, I know. You have that  _ famous _ Gryffindor self-righteousness, don't you?”

Hermione shifted her weight again, glancing around for some escape from this most unwelcome conversation. 

“I suppose I should admire that,” said Mathilda, touching a delicate finger to her lips, as if in thought, “your moral certainty.” 

“ _ Well _ ,” said Hermione, her polite facade wearing thin, “I doubt there are many people who would  _ not _ call the use of Veela blood in beauty potions  _ unethical _ .” She was actively searching the room for possible scapegoats now, gulping her champagne and calculating in her head whether it would be better or worse to interrupt Snape in his conversation with the editor of  _ Potions Quarterly. _

“Hmmm, perhaps,” said Mathilda, shrugging cheerfully. “Well then, Hermione Granger, let me leave you with a little riddle to think about.” 

Hermione stopped craning her neck, her head snapping back around to face the horrid witch. She raised her eyebrows in response. 

Mathilda leaned closer, her grin becoming devious and far too thrilled. “When you start to wonder, the answer is  _ yes _ . It is exactly what you think it is. And if you have to ask ‘who,’ perhaps you aren’t so clever after all.”

“ _ What? _ ” 

Mathilda beamed at her, those black eyes glittering wickedly. “Have a lovely conference, my dear,” she said, turning to go. “Oh! And when you talk to Severus… tell him I told him… to go  _ fuck _ himself.” 

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly after the witch as she sauntered away. Suddenly, a dark figure swept into her view, his face twisted in anger. “What the  _ hell _ are you doing?” asked Snape. 

“Huh?” 

“Talking to  _ her? _ ” His eyes snapped to Hermione’s empty champagne flute and he snatched it out of her hand. “ _ Tell me _ you didn’t  _ drink _ anything she gave you.” 

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just champagne. She took it right off the tray.” But Hermione felt a cold trickle of fear race down her spine as his eyes only grew wider and his incredulity more apparent on his angry face. “I’m  _ fine _ ,” she told him, pushing past him and making as if to approach someone. 

“No,” he said, catching her elbow. “You stay with me, now.” His tone brooked no argument. “I can’t afford to have you getting yourself into any more trouble.” 

“Any  _ more _ trouble!”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Indeed.” 

Hermione did not mind following Severus Snape around for the rest of the night. Despite his frequent waspish comments and generally churlish demeanor, he seemed to be well-connected in the academic wizarding world. As a result, she spent the first night of the conference becoming acquainted with all of the big names she knew so well. And while the socializing only drained Snape more and more, it left Hermione bubbly with energy and excitement. 

There was a bit of a dip in the overall pleasantness of the evening when Hermione got sucked into a conversation with Dunstan Binns, distant cousin of her History of Magic professor and author of  _ Wizardry, a History _ , who kept ogling her as if she couldn’t see where his eyes were. It was the first time she regretted wearing such clingy, low-cut robes. She had thought the deep violet was professional and understated, but she began to fear that she had been too bold. 

Luckily, Snape dragged her away from the man before too long and it wasn’t long after that that the festivities began to wind down. 

“Come,” said Snape, barely looking at her, “we’ve got a long day tomorrow and we’ll want to be up early for Finan Bede’s lecture on the effects of Moongrass in Healing potions.” 

“Yes, alright,” said Hermione, her grin fading a tad. Between the excitement of the evening and her relatively liberal consumption of champagne, she felt as if she could walk on air. 

It was a short walk from the library ballroom to the hotel where the main conference was being held and where their rooms had been booked for the weekend. The air was crisp and the night was alive with the sounds of nightlife and the nearby ocean. They walked in silence most of the way, but then Hermione couldn’t help herself any longer. 

“I can’t  _ believe _ you know all of those people,” she began. “So many people I’ve wanted to meet.” 

“The academic wizarding world is a small community,” he growled, his gaze turned to the sidewalk. 

“ _ Perhaps _ , but I didn’t think everyone knew everyone by name.” 

“They don’t.” 

“Well,  _ you _ seemed familiar enough with everyone.” 

“I’ve been coming to these conferences for a very long time.” 

“You’re being modest. I know you’ve written dozens of articles, I’ve seen them! And you’ve invented potions, too.” 

“Granger, can we leave off the interrogation for the night? I’ve had enough of your chatter.” 

Hermione grinned up at him. “Sorry,” she said, meeting his impatient eye. He turned away. They had reached the entrance to the hotel and the automatic doors parted for them to enter the brightly lit lobby. They took the elevator together to the fourth floor without another word and stopped outside of their respective doors, which were side-by-side. “Goodnight then,” said Hermione. 

Snape made a sort of grunting sound, then froze, his face snapping to hers. “If you feel… anything. Anything odd, I mean…” 

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “You’re not still thinking…”

“You can never be too careful,” he said, meeting her eye. Then his gaze flickered down her form. It was the briefest of glances, but Hermione felt a blush rising in her cheeks. “Goodnight.” 

And then they were stepping into their separate bedrooms, alone once again. 

Hermione danced her way into the room, nearly humming with happiness. Tonight had been her version of a fairytale, a dream come true. And it was only Friday night! They had two and a half more days of this to look forward to. 

Lazily, languorously, she stripped out of her robes and slipped on her favorite pair of cartoon cat pajamas. It really was late, but she couldn’t imagine going to sleep right now, so she brushed her teeth and pulled out one of the three books she had brought with her “just in case.” Climbing into the big, cushy bed, she snuggled up to read. 

It started as just a nudge between her legs. Hermione jumped, ripping the covers off, sure she would find something crawling around down there. There was nothing on the bed, but she could feel it between her legs, probing at her. She squealed, thrusting a hand into her thin cotton shorts. There was nothing there. But the sensation didn’t stop. Despite having a hand firmly clasped over herself, she could feel the distinct and unmistakable feeling of a man's erection slowly pushing its way between her folds. 

It came again and again, going deeper and deeper each time as Hermione leapt up out of the bed, spinning in a circle, not knowing what to do. She thought of what Snape had said, how he suspected that something might be amiss, and hurried out into the hall without another thought, fear defeating embarrassment in her panic. 

The thrusting between her legs was getting harder and harder and she had no time to think what she might tell Snape. She just flew out of her room and banged on his door. 

The thrusting stopped. There was nothing. She heard a scramble beyond the door and then it swung inward to reveal a very startled Severus Snape. He was panting, his eyes wide with alarm, and he had wrapped a hotel towel around his naked waist. “What is it?” he snapped, so panicked that he didn’t even bother to hide himself. 

Hermione’s gaze flitted to his bare chest, his wiry torso spattered with fine black hair. Finally, she remembered the words Mathilda had said to her:  _ “When you start to wonder, the answer is  _ yes _. It is exactly what you think it is. And if you have to ask ‘who,’ perhaps you aren’t so clever after all.” _

And Hermione understood. She knew the ‘what’ and  _ now _ she was certain that she knew the ‘who.’ Heat rose in her face at the realization. She remembered the wicked glint in Mathilda’s dark eyes as she had bid Hermione goodbye.  _ “Oh! And when you talk to Severus… _ ” she had added,  _ “tell him I told him… to go  _ fuck _ himself.”  _

“What is it?” he snapped, rightfully angry at her staring blankly up at him while he stood naked in the doorway to his hotel room. “Did something happen?”

And Hermione knew she could not tell Snape what was wrong. It would ruin  _ everything. _ “No-nothing,” she said, “sorry. I, er, didn't know... what time we were supposed to meet for breakfast.” 

Snape glared at her, more annoyed than suspicious. “Well... be out at seven, then.”

“Right. Sorry,” she said. “I-I won’t bother you again.” And with that she turned away from him and reached for the handle of her bedroom door. It didn’t budge. Snape was already slamming the door in her face when she realized she’d left her room key inside. 

For a long moment, Hermione stood there in the hallway, feeling like a complete dolt. But she knew she would have to knock again and the sooner the better, so she did. 

“ _ WHAT? _ ” he snapped as he ripped the door open a second time. 

Hermione cringed up at him. “Sorry. Really, I’m really sorry, but… I, er, seem to have… locked myself out.” 

Snape took a deep breath, pulling a hand over his impatient face. “And that has  _ what _ to do with me, exactly?” 

Hermione gawked up at him. “Well, I can’t exactly go down to the desk like  _ this, _ ” she said, indicating her ridiculous pajamas. Snape’s eyes flicked down to her scantily-clad form, seeming to notice what she was wearing for the first time. His scowl melted into uncomfortable surprise and color rose high in his cheeks as he snapped his blinking eyes up to a point above her head. 

“I suppose you expect  _ me _ to go down for you,” he said through gritted teeth, not quite looking at her. 

Hermione scowled at him. “Well if you’ve got a dressing gown in there, let me borrow that and I’ll go and get a key myself!” 

Snape’s fury simmered as he considered, letting his eyes flick down to her once more. “Alright, give me a minute,” he snapped, slamming the door on her again. One long minute later, he reappeared, hastily stuffing a white button-down into his black trousers. “Wait here,” he growled and she watched him stalk away. 

When he was gone, Hermione leaned against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut in humiliation.  _ Oh gods.  _ What could she possibly do? She couldn’t  _ tell _ the man what had happened. Not only would that ruin her perfect weekend, but it would likely ruin their already terrible working relationship, too. She groaned.  _ Horrid, wicked woman!  _

Was there any way she could make him think she didn’t know it was  _ him _ who had caused the sensation? Could she pretend ignorance well enough to convince the accomplished spy?  _ Not bloody likely _ . 

She was roused from her worries by the sound of a door opening down the hall. It was Dunstan Binns, the pervy historian who’d been ogling her earlier. Hermione nearly groaned. He was wearing a dressing gown and slippers and carrying a bucket for ice. “Ah!” he said, when he got close enough to recognize her, “Miss Hermione Granger! What on Earth are you doing out here?” 

“Locked out,” she said shortly, covering herself up the best she could as his eyes wandered up and down her body as if she couldn’t see. She was suddenly very aware of how thin her tee was and the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra.

“Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it!” he laughed, stopping in front of her and grinning like he’d just been given a birthday gift. “Can I help? You can wait in my room, if you…”

“My, er, key is… on the way up.” 

“Binns,” growled a familiar voice. Hermione turned to see Severus striding down the corridor. He stopped beside Hermione, just a hair in front of her, facing the other man. “Did you need something?” 

Binns’ cloudy eyes switched back and forth between Hermione in her cat pajamas and her hastily dressed mentor, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Not at all,” he said, sounding scandalized, “I’m off to fetch some ice. Have a good night.” 

Snape scowled down at Hermione, thrusting a key into her hand. “I  _ trust _ ,” he growled through gritted teeth, “that you are going to leave me in peace now?” 

“Yes, thank you. Sorry,” she said, nodding vigorously and not quite meeting his eye. “Thanks. Goodnight.” 

Snape grunted, but she did not miss the way his eyes flicked over her one more time as he retreated into his own bedroom without another word. Hermione did the same, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. Should she have said something? Should she have found a way to deter him from… what he was likely still planning to do? She couldn’t think of any way she could have prevented it without causing irreparable harm. Clearly that was what Mathilda had intended, the wicked bitch. She really had struck back in the most clever and terrible way. 

Hermione caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and flushed. The cat-covered shorts and pale pink tee could hardly have been more juvenile. She had been working so hard the past few weeks to show her professor that she wasn't a child anymore only to have him see her like this. He must think her ridiculous. 

And yet... the chill of the hotel had left her nipples very obviously hard, straining against the nearly sheer material. The shorts exposed her smooth, shapely legs and gave her skin a golden warmth by comparison with the pale pastels. All in all, the ensemble left little to the imagination. Had anyone ever told her Severus Snape would see her dressed this way, she would have thought she’d die of embarrassment. But it didn’t bother her in that way at all. In fact, she liked the thought that he had liked what he’d seen. 

Hermione shook her head and climbed into bed, stretching out to wait for the  _ enchantment _ to return. The minutes dragged by and she began to wonder if it was even going to. Clearly, the man had been humiliated out of his erection. Maybe he had lost whatever inspiration had given him one in the first place. She cringed; the self-loathing part of her congratulated herself on successfully annoying her mentor out of his erection.  _ So, now I'm failing as an apprentice  _ and _ as a woman in general. _

She couldn't help but imagine him in the next room, stretched out naked in his own bed. She cringed. She had seen a lot more of him tonight than she had ever thought she'd see. But it made picturing the man much easier. Now, she didn't have to imagine his thin, faintly-muscled torso or the way his wiry black hair would stand out against the pallor of his skin. 

_ Ugh, why are you even thinking about this, Hermione?  _ She had not allowed herself to think about her growing attraction to the man, as it was more than clear he thought her nothing more than a loud-mouthed nuisance. But she really couldn't expect herself to avoid the thought if she was going to be feeling his… well… his penis… inside of her… any minute now. 

The idea made her blush and a pleasant heat collect between her legs. How mad was she to be  _ aroused _ by this! Hermione squeezed her eyes closed, shaking her head in shame for that response. After all, if Snape knew what was happening to her--to  _ them _ \--he would definitely _ not _ consent. 

She was beginning to think it wouldn’t happen again when the sensation returned. It was slow at first, beginning only as a firm pressure between her legs, frustratingly still. She waited several minutes before it began to press inside her once again. Hermione gasped, leaning back and closing her eyes in an attempt to relax. It seemed that this was going to happen after all, and if she wasn’t going to stop it, she was going to have to deal with it. 

At first, she tried to shut it out, to ignore it, but how could she? It was so vivid, so real. His apparently enormous cock was sliding in and out of her with what felt like a deliberately patient rhythm. She could feel the silky skin of him, the swollen bulb of his head. And with every thrust, she thought of Snape in the room next door, pleasuring himself. She wondered what he was thinking about. 

In her state of heightened arousal, it wasn't difficult to imagine that he was thinking about her. It was an erotic scenario, after all. A mentor and apprentice away for a conference, sleeping one thin wall away from each other. What if there had been a mistake in their reservation? One that meant they had to share a room?  _ Oooo, an _ intentional _ mistake!  _

Every now and then, he would slow down, pulling nearly all the way out and dipping just the head of his cock in and out a few times before thrusting back in. And he was so big, so long and thick. Even as her body began to adjust to him, he filled her more than anyone ever had. Soon, Hermione simply couldn’t  _ take _ it anymore. Throwing moral certainty to the wind, she reached a hand between her legs, rubbing circles around her clit as her mentor’s cock pounded harder and harder inside of her. She closed her eyes and imagined that the man himself was in her room, on top of her, thrusting into her. Faster and faster, harder and harder. 

She gasped aloud. She hadn’t been this close to orgasm in a very long time. His movements were getting erratic. He was close. She could feel his need. The thought unleashed a molten pleasure in her core and then she was coming hard, crying out into the little room. And he was freezing inside of her. She could feel the wet heat of his seed. He gave a few last lingering thrusts and then withdrew. 

Hermione panted up at the ceiling for a moment, shocked and spent in equal measure. Then she scrambled onto her knees to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, actually come inside of her, somehow. She wouldn’t put it past that bitch Mathilda to sink so low. But it appeared the magic had not taken it that far.  _ Thank Merlin. _

*************************

**_AN: So yeah this is a bit of a weirder one, I guess, but I just couldn’t get it out of my head. *shrugs* Let me know what you think! Even if you think it’s weird teehee. There will be two more chapters._ **


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast was awkward. 

The hotel had breakfast included so they poured themselves styrofoam cups of nasty coffee (Hermione watched with dim surprise as Snape dumped three packets of sugar and five little plastic servings of cream into his) and filled tiny plates with lukewarm scrambled eggs and soggy fruit. (The bacon was gone by the time they got there.)

Snape had hardly said a word to her all morning and he was pointedly avoiding looking at her as he sat munching on burnt toast and glaring at no one in particular. Hermione tried very hard not to think about the night before. When she did, heat rose in her cheeks and tightened pleasantly between her thighs. 

She couldn’t seem to stop herself from talking to the man. “So…” she began, feeling a strange urge to turn his attention onto herself, “are there any panels you are especially looking forward to?” 

Snape’s half-lidded eyes slid to her face, but he didn’t speak right away. He made a show of taking a long sip of coffee and setting his cup back down on the table. “No,” he told her in a voice rough with sleep. She hated how much she liked the way it sounded. 

_ Gods, Hermione _ , she thought to herself,  _ you certainly can't deny this little crush anymore. _

As the day went on, Hermione found that Severus Snape had a new effect on her. She was nervous around him and awkward and couldn’t hold his gaze for very long. He, on the other hand, seemed to gain confidence as the day went on. While he had started out avoiding eye contact with her, he began to watch her, his gaze lingering, his eyes glittering with some unspoken thought. 

She had a terrible anxiety about it. Did he know what had happened? Did he see it in her mind? Had he known all along? Had that been part of some plot… but no, that was all too far-fetched. She was being illogical. He had probably just picked up on something in the change in her behaviour towards him.  _ Shite. _

The hotel was buzzing with activity all day. Conference rooms and lecture halls had been set up all over for the various talks that were planned and Hermione could hardly choose which ones she wanted to go to. She had a full schedule written out with second and third options if one happened to be too far away or ended up being less exciting than it sounded. 

Having a full day of lectures made her feel like she was back at school. Her Muggle notebook was getting full toward the end of the Saturday schedule and she knew she’d have to run over to the convenience store at the corner to pick up another before tomorrow. But taking notes while listening to experts speak passionately about subjects they knew well felt to Hermione the way taking flight must feel to a bird. 

She only saw Mathilda Rothford a couple of times and each time tried her best not to look like she knew what the woman had done. The last thing she needed was for Mathilda to out her little plot to Severus Snape. The best case scenario, Hermione decided, would be for her to figure out what potion she had been slipped and give herself the antidote without ever having to tell the man a thing. 

But, at the same time, it wasn’t exactly  _ urgent,  _ was it? That is to say, this weekend’s schedule was a bit full to waste time researching something she could easily work on at Hogwarts. And anyway, she had already seen the damage the potion could do. Even if it happened again, would that really be so bad? Was it bad enough to waste precious convention time trying to stop it? No, Hermione was not in such a hurry. She would wait until after this weekend to figure it out. 

After her last lecture of the day--a fascinating look at the way Magical History had been skewed by the wizard’s perspective--Hermione found Snape outside of a lecture on Copyright laws as they pertained to potions. He was talking to the editor of Potions Quarterly again and Hermione was hesitant to interrupt. He was one of the few people she hadn’t met at the reception last night and a very important figure, at that. But the thin, gray-haired wizard caught her eye over Severus’s shoulder and beamed. 

“Ah!” he said, gesturing to Hermione, “This must be your young protege.” 

Snape turned only enough to glance over at her and give her the tiniest of nods. “Indeed. Miss Hermione Granger,” he said as she approached the two men, “may I introduce Nissian Doge, the editor of Potions Quarterly, as you surely know.” 

“Mr. Doge,” said Hermione, reaching out a hand to shake his, “it is an honor.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” said Doge. “I have heard all about you, of course. I am sure we will see remarkable things from you, Miss Granger.” 

To her surprise, it was Snape who responded. “I have no doubt,” he said, a tone of pride in his voice. Hermione found that both annoying and, to her horror, more than a little arousing. “I only accept the very best students as apprentices, as you know, and Miss Granger is certainly the best I’ve had so far.” 

Doge lifted his eyebrows at her. “High praise from Severus Snape.” 

“I’m as shocked as you are,” said Hermione with a smirk.

The old man laughed heartily. “Well, I say, if you can thrive under  _ his _ tutelage, you can succeed anywhere in the Wizarding World. Do you deny it, Severus?” 

Snape’s mouth was twisted in an amused little half-smile and his eyes were glittering devilishly. “Well, it has only been a month, after all. We have yet to see if she can sustain it long-term.” 

“Put up with  _ you _ long term, don’t you mean?” said Doge, winking at Hermione. 

“I do enjoy a good challenge,” said Hermione, grinning back at him, “and I dare you to find me a better one.” 

“Severus is that,” he laughed. “Listen, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger. A number of us are meeting for drinks after dinner tonight at the pub on the corner. I hope you will be there. And if it’s not too much of a  _ challenge _ , perhaps you can manage to drag this one along.” He winked at her, gesturing to Snape as if the man couldn’t hear him. 

“Oh! That sounds lovely!” said Hermione, clasping hands with the editor once more. “It was wonderful meeting you, too.” 

Doge bid Severus good evening and left them standing outside of the meeting hall. There was an awkward silence, in which they both seemed to be looking around for something. Hermione was the first to speak. “So… we have  _ after _ dinner plans. Do you want to find a place to eat before that?” 

Snape hesitated. “I suppose we ought to,” he allowed. 

“Alright. Do you mind if we head back to the rooms first? I’d like to change clothes if we’re going to the pub after.” 

Snape sighed. “Of course you would.” But he set off in the direction of the elevators just the same. 

Hermione poured over the contents of her suitcase, trying to decide how casual she should be and how much Muggle versus Witch. It was a Muggle pub, after all, and she doubted these academics would think less of her for wearing jeans. And if they did, to be honest, that was only more reason to wear them. 

That decided, Hermione pulled out a selection of tops. She had put an Undetectable Extension Charm on her suitcase so that she would be sure to have a variety of choices. Of course that did present the problem of narrowing down those choices to just the one. She should probably be modest and understated. She was having drinks with the editor of Potions Quarterly, after all. Then again, she was also having drinks with Severus Snape. 

Hermione bit her lip. Did she  _ want _ her mentor to notice her? Did she want to provoke him? To have him think about her sexually? Her body heated in response and Hermione knew what the answer was. But the better question, of course, was  _ should _ she. After an internal war with herself, Hermione chose a slinky black halter top with a cowled neckline that dipped low between her breasts, showing nothing, but hinting at everything. For modesty’s sake, and to make the outfit more professional, she slipped on a soft black cardigan. Then, letting her hair down and giving it a few tweaks to take the frizz back to lively curls, she slipped on some black heels,dabbed on the tiniest bit of perfume, and stepped out the door. 

Severus Snape was leaning against the wall opposite, scowling at nothing and no one. He had switched out of his wizard’s robes and into what was essentially the equivalent in Muggle attire: black trousers and a black jumper with a black scarf and a long, black jacket over top. When he saw her, his eyes widened momentarily before returning again to his familiar scowling mask and turning away to stare at nothing down the hall. 

“Ready?” she asked him, nervously. 

He turned his head slowly toward her, his bored expression unstirred, ironic. 

“Right,” she said, “do you know where you want to go?” 

“Anywhere but that ruddy hotel cafe,” he said, pushing away from the wall. 

“Alright. Well, there was a nice little Indian place across from the pub, but I understand if you don’t like curry.” Ron had never cared for curry. 

He raised an eyebrow at her, almost in surprise. “Curry would be… acceptable,” he said in a tone she knew meant he was pleased with the suggestion. It was strange. Them… agreeing. Getting along. Most of their interactions since she had become his apprentice had revolved around her somehow screwing something up and him yelling at her about it. 

The woman who greeted them at the entrance to the restaurant clearly thought they were on a date. She took them to a secluded booth in a corner of the room. Here, the lights were dim and the exotic music low enough to whisper over, but loud enough to obscure their conversation from the tables set nearby. 

They each ordered a glass of red wine and were each surprised when the other ordered their meal to be prepared “hot.” As Hermione explained, “It’s the endorphins. People like spicy food because it causes your body to release…” 

“I am well aware of the physiological response, Miss Granger, being something of an  _ expert _ on the effect of chemicals on the human body.” 

Hermione blushed. “Right. Of course.” 

There was an awkward pause before Snape spoke again. “But did you know,” he began, with an air of regret for having halted conversation, “that it is believed humans developed a taste for a variety of spices because of an evolutionary advantage?”

Hermione lifted an eyebrow at him. “Well, don’t all of our peculiarities arise from an evolutionary advantage?”

“A fair point,” he conceded, the corner of his mouth lifting. 

Hermione smirked at him, leaning forward with her arms folded on the table and delighting in the way his gaze froze, as if in an attempt to keep his eyes from wandering downward. “So why was that an advantage, then?” she asked. 

“Well, because the pungent flavors of many aromatic spices come from compounds in the plant, which often have antioxidant or antimicrobial properties.”

“Of course they do!” she laughed, sipping her wine and letting her eyes drift off toward the kitchen, giving him the chance to look at her properly. 

That was when she felt it. That gentle pressure between her legs. Her eyes went wide and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Did that mean he had an erection? One that  _ she _ had inspired? 

When she turned back, his eyes were on the table, a guarded expression on his face. He sipped his wine. 

Hermione's pulse leapt. The air seemed to buzz with tension. But the silence was quickly growing awkward, and the gentle pressure went away. “I’m starving,” she said, glancing again at the kitchen. 

“Well, you’ve picked an excellent time.” 

Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes at him. It warmed her inside when he smiled. 

When their food arrived, they both ate awkwardly, trying to be graceful while piling korma and rice on top of strips of naan. Soon, Hermione was crying from the spice, but Snape gave nothing away. He smirked at her over his plate and ordered them each another glass of wine. When Hermione asked for a take-away box, he lifted an eyebrow at her. “You’re not going to take it to the pub with you?” he asked. 

She gave him a reproachful look and said nothing as she piled her leftovers into the container, Charmed it not to flip over, and proceeded to stuff it into her tiny beaded bag. He lifted his eyebrows at her and she couldn’t help but hope that he was impressed. 

As they crossed the street, Hermione made a comment about her bag not doing anything about the  _ smell  _ and they were both laughing as they entered the pub. Nissian Doge was sitting at the bar with a few other important witches and wizards. He caught sight of them and waved them over to a couple of seats at the edge of the group. 

“Ha!” laughed Doge as Hermione took the seat beside him. “I see you managed to wrangle him into it!” 

“It took some wrangling, alright,” she joked, winking at the old man. 

“Come now, Nissian,” Snape drawled, “you know I never turn down a good Scotch.” 

Doge introduced Hermione to the rest of the writers and inventors, many of whom she had already met the night before. They all seemed to have had a couple of drinks already, but they readily accepted when Severus offered to buy them a round. 

“To Miss Granger’s first conference,” said Doge. 

Hermione beamed at him, lifting her glass. 

“And to the hope Snape doesn’t scare her off from more of them,” laughed Vicky Bassett, a plump, middle-aged witch who wrote for Mr. Doge’s magazine. 

Everyone laughed, and even Snape had a glint in his eye, though he gave the woman a reproachful glare. “Miss Granger is far more likely to scare  _ me  _ off from ever coming again,” he teased, winking at Hermione. “I assure you.” 

“Well that’s alright,” joked Madame Bassett. “We’ll take her over you any day.” 

“I can’t say I blame you there,” he said, looking down at Hermione with a smirk, his eyes glittering. 

“ _ Aw _ ,” teased Hermione, laying a playful hand on his forearm, “you’re just trying to butter me up. What sort of vile task are you planning for me now, Severus Snape?” 

“Ha!” said Cyril Temple, a famous experimental potioneer. “He makes you do the dirty work, does he?”

Hermione lifted an eyebrow at the old man. “Does that surprise you?”

“ _ Damn! _ ” said Temple. “I should have taken on an apprentice, myself!” 

The night went on like that for a couple of hours, several of the more successful witches and wizards taking turns to buy rounds of drinks. Hermione had to beg off before too long. Her head was swimming and she was laughing a little too much at everything. She thought she might even have put her hand on Snape’s knee at one point, but if she had, it had been hastily removed. 

“Granger,” Snape murmured in a low growl that resonated deep inside Hermione. She turned away from a hilarious story that Vicky was telling about how she discovered that frog spawn should never be combined with porcupine quills to look up at the older man. “Are you feeling alright? Perhaps I’d better get you home.” 

Hermione grinned up at him, arching her back to make her breasts more visible. “Are you going to take me home?” she asked him, meeting his eye and letting some of her insinuation carry over into her expression. 

His eyes grew wide and he swallowed, glancing over at the others to be sure they hadn’t heard, but the pressure had returned between her legs. “I think you’ve had more than enough,” he told her, sounding far too serious. 

Hermione poked her finger into the man’s buttoned up chest, a rush of arousal swelling inside of her in answer to his own. “ _ You _ don’t tell  _ me _ when I’ve had enough, Severus Snape.” 

He lifted an eyebrow at her, clearly trying to hide his amusement. “We have a long day tomorrow. Don’t you want to be well-rested?”

Hermione let out an exaggerated sigh. “I  _ suppose _ ,” she said, sliding off of her stool. Something soft pooled on top of her feet and she realized she must have removed her cardigan at some point. It struck her that maybe she had drunk a bit too much and a shock of anxiety welled up inside of her. She leaned in toward her professor. “I think I’ve had a bit too much,” she whispered. 

Snape gave her a sympathetic grin and stooped to retrieve her cardigan from the floor. He turned his attention to the rest of the group, who were laughing at the punchline to Vicky’s story. “Well,” he said in a voice that carried over the small crowd, “I’m afraid we are going to have to turn in for the night. Thank you for inviting us, Nissian, old friend.” 

“Yes, thank you so much Mr. Doge,” said Hermione, reaching out a hand to shake his again. “This was lovely.” 

“It was my pleasure, my dear. I hope we can do it again sometime.” 

“Goodnight, darling,” said Vicky. “Try to keep that old bastard in line!” 

There was general laughter and a few shouted ‘goodnight’s as Severus Snape escorted Hermione out of the pub. 

They were hardly out onto the sidewalk before Hermione decided she wasn’t going to make it all the way back in these ridiculous shoes. Grabbing hold of Snape’s elbow for support, she stopped them in their tracks to pull the stupid things off and continued on completely barefoot. They were nearly halfway there when she realized she never had let go of Snape’s elbow, but the man seemed to be smirking at the buildings across the street, so she supposed he didn’t mind. 

“Do you know,” Hermione began in a conspiratorial tone, looping her arm further through his so that the side of her breast pressed against his sleeve, “I believe I am completely  _ pissed _ .” 

Snape laughed, glancing down at her. “Yes, I believe you are.” 

“Hmm, not very professional of me.” 

“No.” 

“Tell you what… I’ve decided…” she swung around him, stopping him in his tracks and nearly stumbling backward. She leaned in and lifted an eyebrow at him. “What happens at Conference stays at Conference. Whaddyou think?” 

He suppressed an amused smirk. “Of course,” he said, giving her a very solemn nod. He looked so natural, she never would have guessed he had an erection, without the insistent heat of his naked cock between her legs.

Satisfied, Hermione took his arm again and they kept walking. “Do you know what else?” she asked him. 

“What’s that?”

“We should do this more often. Back at the school, I mean. We should go for drinks.” She glanced up in time to see hesitant concern marring his handsome smirk. 

They made it back into the lobby of the hotel, ignoring the few attendees who were standing in clusters, still talking about the various lectures they’d been to that day. The attendees, however, did not ignore them. Hermione noticed a few raised eyebrows and smirks as they passed, but she didn’t want to worry about that now. Severus Snape was ushering her quickly past them, toward the elevators, and up to their rooms. 

She clung to his arm, even in the elevator, very aware that she was holding it tight against her breast; trying her very best to make him think she didn’t realize she was doing it. “Do you know,” she whispered, though they were the only ones in the elevator, “I think they might suspect you’re taking me back to your room.” 

Snape visibly swallowed, not looking at her, but she felt his cock jump between her legs. “They might.” 

She bit her lip, knowing that she ought to be more cautious, that the drink was making her too bold. She continued anyway. “It’s not a bad thought,” she said, her voice husky. 

He shot her a look of mingled surprise and alarm, but said nothing. 

She turned to stand in front of him and leaned against him so that her breasts were squashed against his chest. “What happens at Conference stays at Conference, right?” 

Severus Snape cleared his throat, pulling out of her embrace as the elevator doors opened. But he couldn’t fool her. She could feel the hard length of his erection pulsing desperately against her. The fire flared inside of her. She wanted nothing more than to go with him into his room and share together what they had shared apart last night. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he murmured in a low voice as he led her back toward their rooms. 

“Oh come on, yes you do,” she teased, giving his arm a squeeze. 

They stopped when they arrived at their adjacent doors, and Severus delicately peeled her off of his arm and handed her back her cardigan. “Hermione,” he said, his amused smirk now tainted by pity, “you are drunk.” 

Hermione grinned playfully up at him. “Not  _ too _ drunk, though.” 

“Oh yes you are.” 

She pouted, stepping toward him again and toying with the lapels of his jacket. “Please?” she murmured in a sultry voice. “I  _ want _ you. Just one night and then we never have to speak of it again.” 

“No,” he told her in a tone of finality. “Just go and get some rest.” She would have been offended if she couldn't feel his stiff erection pulsing between her legs. "Goodnight," he purred in a low voice that nearly made her moan. Then he turned away from her, pulling out his key and opening his door. And he was gone.

Hermione stripped out of her clothes and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to put on her pajamas. She felt wonderfully sensual; the cotton sheets so soft against her naked skin. She ran her hands up and down her body, pinching her nipples and rubbing her thighs together, where the tip of her mentor's stiff erection still pressed, insistently. 

Several minutes passed as she lay there atop the duvet. She could almost picture him wrestling with himself in the other room. Was he ashamed of wanting her? But soon that phantom cock began to press inside her once again. There was an urgency tonight that hadn’t been there before. He gave only a few grinding thrusts before he was hammering into her. Hermione cried out. Her body wasn’t ready for such a punishing pace. It left her breathless. 

Her fingers circled her clit, dipping down to her slick entrance to gather dew. Inspiration struck. She gasped aloud as she pressed her fingers inside of herself, curving them around to that hidden pleasure point as her thumb continued her attentions on her clit. She was nearly overpowered by sensation. He was filling her completely, slamming into her harder than anyone had done before, and yet she could still feel her own fingers teasing that tender spot and coaxing her body toward the precipice. She writhed atop the sheets, moaning in ecstasy, pinching her nipples and imagining her mentor crouched above her, the way his inky eyes would burn with lust. 

She came hard, her whole body convulsing around his merciless cock. And just as the tremors began to fade, his thrusts became erratic and the thought of him so close to completion, undoubtedly thinking about  _ her _ this time, made her come again. Ecstasy pulsed down every nerve in her body, curling her toes as she arched her back, crying out with abandon in the little room as he froze inside of her, coming in a series of hot bursts. 

And then she was alone again, panting atop her lonely bed, staring at the ceiling. She wanted to curl into his side and kiss his cheek. She wanted to wake up with him. And in that moment she resolved that  _ soon _ she would. 

…..

**_AN: What do y’all think so far? o_O_ **


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN: Perhaps I should have labeled this one humor, haha. This is the final installment! I hope you enjoy it!_ **

**_p.s. I have almost complete chapters of Her Shocking Fate AND The Libidinus Curse I'll try to post very soon!! Just had to exorcise this little plot bunny first. XD_ **

…..

Severus stretched lazily beneath the sheets. Images from last night kept flitting through his mind: Granger leaning across the table, glancing up at him through her eyelashes, her breasts outlined beautifully by the drape of her blouse; Granger teasing the editor of Potions Weekly, her smile confident and bold, her hand casually resting on her mentor’s knee; Granger pressing up against him in the elevator, practically begging him to take her back to his room. 

He groaned. Already his cock was hard and throbbing. It had been bad enough working with the girl ( _ young woman! _ ) for the past several weeks. The way she watched him with those big brown eyes. Her mane of wild, riotous curls. The way she chewed on her quills. Her curvy figure, so apparent in both muggle clothes and witch’s robes. 

But knowing that she thought about  _ him _ that way too…

Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of bed. There were some early lectures he didn’t want to miss. He couldn't afford to dawdle this morning.

There was no answer the first time he knocked on her door. "Granger," he called, knocking harder, "if we don't leave soon, we'll miss breakfast."

There was a commotion from within the room and at length Granger emerged, peeking around the door with what looked to be her bed sheets wrapped around her naked frame. She squinted up at him and cringed. "Hey! Sorry. I know. I must have forgotten to Charm the clock to wake me."

"Oh, well… that's… unsurprising," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and trying to keep his eyes on her face.

She cringed. Her hair was a riot of curls and yesterday's mascara was smudged under her eyes. Seeing her in such a state of disarray seemed even more intimate than seeing her draped in her sheets. 

"Sorry," she said again. "I suppose I was a bit… inappropriate, last night."

"No. Well, yes, but… it doesn't matter. You were out of your mind last night. Consider it forgotten."

"I hope I didn't embarrass you. I know my behavior, under such circumstances, would be considered quite scandalous in the Muggle world."

He glanced away, off down the hall, unsure whether he should tip his hand. "Yes, well…” he began, cautiously calculating his response, “the Wizarding world doesn't have the same concerns when it comes to mentor/apprentice relations, so you may rest assured that you have not jeopardized your apprenticeship. And anyway," he added, glancing at her once again, "I doubt anyone took any notice. They adored you."

Hermione beamed at him. "Do you think so?"

"Of course they did, Hermione. Don't pretend modesty. It doesn't become you."

His harsh words didn’t seem to faze her as she stared up at him in surprise. It took him a moment to realize he had used her first name. He had never done that before and he certainly hadn’t meant to now. But he had to admit that the feel of her name on his tongue felt  _ right  _ somehow _. _

"Well, anyway," she said awkwardly through an appealing blush, "you had better go on without me. I need a shower. But save me a seat at that lecture. I'll be right down."

Severus stood outside her door for a full minute after it had closed, debating the merits of breakfast. There was little reason to partake if she wasn’t joining him, and thoughts of her delectable body beneath torrents of hot, soapy water was stirring another  _ appetite.  _

Mind made up, he returned to his room for a quick wank before lectures began. After all, it had been years since he had been so virile and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity. 

When Hermione arrived at the lecture, she sat in the seat directly next to his, despite the rows and rows of vacant chairs. This made her very difficult to ignore, with her soft robes tailored perfectly to her lithe form, her bare calves on display and her thigh ever so slightly pressed against his. 

She seemed a bit flustered and flushed, which only drew even more of his attention to her, and soon he found that he was adjusting his position to conceal yet another erection. How on Earth this chit of a girl had managed to inspire such perpetual arousal… well, actually it was something he understood rather well.

She followed him to the next lecture and seemed to sit even closer this time. He was beginning to think she was doing it on purpose, though he knew the girl had never been particularly aware of her effect on men. Especially him. And yet, he couldn’t help but notice the way she had positioned her arms to take notes on her knee, pushing her breasts together so that he could see their twin curves down a neckline that he otherwise would have described as a modest V.

This pattern continued until, at midday, he begged off one of the lectures with the excuse of needing a bit of a kip. He was an old man, after all, and they had had quite a night. He had hardly closed the door behind him before he’d withdrawn his aching cock and gotten to work easing its desperation once again. 

When he rejoined Granger for the afternoon lectures they had planned, he couldn’t help but notice that she looked rather flustered. She blushed prettily when he slid into the seat beside her, leaning back a bit and letting his legs stretch out in front of him. He was still enjoying that lazy satisfaction that followed a very thorough wank. But his comfortable posture only seemed to agitate her even more. 

It crossed his mind that what she needed was to be brought off, herself. Then that had his mind picturing how exactly he could accomplish that, perhaps with his fingers, then with his tongue, and soon he was hiding his erection from her once again. After all, what she clearly needed was to be very thoroughly pounded into his mattress. And he was beginning to think she might actually let him. 

He managed to squeeze in another quick wank while Granger got ready for dinner that night. He couldn’t stop imagining her just one thin wall away and wondering if she would want to follow him into his rooms tonight. He couldn’t allow it, of course—sexual relations between them would likely compromise his authority as her mentor—but if she offered again, it would be exceedingly difficult to turn her down. 

Dinner was stilted and awkward. There was a buzzing tension between them that hadn’t been there the night before. He kept looking for a way to broach the subject of her wanton behavior toward him in an effort to assuage any concerns she might have, but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the proverbial elephant in the room. 

His concern grew when Granger refused all but her very first drink at the pub later. Discomfited, Severus followed suit. 

Despite her demure behavior, she had dressed even more provocatively tonight, in a slinky black dress that cut off just above the knee and cap sleeves that left most of her shoulders and collarbones exposed, dipping down to reveal the creamy curve of her decolletage. 

Once again, Granger charmed all company present and held her own in conversations pertaining to Potions, History, Theory of Magic, and the politics of Muggle/Magical relations. Everyone was impressed with her—as they bloody well should be—and Severus had to admit that he was drawn to her in more ways than one. 

It was hard to ignore the way she looked at him with a teasing glint in her eye, or how she kept setting her hand on his arm whenever she referenced him, or how she had surreptitiously scooted her stool closer to his so that their thighs pressed together. And there it was again: her hand on his knee. She didn’t have the excuse of alcohol tonight, so her intentions were clear. Severus found himself adjusting his trousers. His mind was telling him no, that it would be a mistake to accept her advances. But his body was begging him to drag her back to his hotel room Right. Now. 

When at last they did leave, he made sure to set a quick pace so that she would be too winded to speak. He didn’t trust his resolve if she verbalized her intentions. It was sheer dumb luck that they were not alone in the elevator as they made their way up to their rooms. And so it was that he was standing before his door, pulling out his key, before she caught up to him and stopped him with one hand on his arm. 

“Severus  _ please, _ ” she said, using his first name for the first time, “stop running away from me.” 

“I assure you,  _ Miss Granger _ , that I am doing no such thing.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him, quirking her lips, nonplussed. 

“Now, if you don’t mind, we have rather a long day tomorrow…”

“Severus…”

“And I, for one, want to be rested enough this time.”

“Sev…”

“ _ Goodnight _ ,” he growled in a tone of finality, slipping into his room and letting the door slam behind him. Sighing, he leaned back against it and squeezed his eyes shut in relief and frustration until he heard the angry slam of her own bedroom door. 

There could be no doubt now. She  _ wanted  _ him. And he wanted her! Gods damn it all, why did he have to be so peculiar about such things? Sex was one thing. But it would never  _ just _ be sex with Hermione Granger. She had been his  _ student _ , for Merlin’s sake! She was his  _ apprentice! _ Entrusted into his care. Naive. She would never be merely a quick fuck, no matter how many times she insisted that ‘ _ what happens at Conference stays at Conference.’ _ She was more than just a beautiful witch to him. And _ intimacy _ was not something with which he had any experience at all. 

Pushing away from the wall, Severus flicked his wand, setting his usual privacy and silencing wards before letting out a feral growl of frustration. Why did he have to be like this? He could be kissing her right now. Pushing her up against the wall. Wrapping her legs around his waist and cupping her lovely arse in his eager hands. 

Severus stripped and collapsed naked into his sheets, his erection throbbing with need. For a long moment, he just stared at the ceiling, imagining her there beside him, her curvy little body entwined with his own. He could almost picture her straddling his lap in that slinky black dress, rocking against him in pursuit of her own pleasure while his hands travelled her body, from her perfect hips to her luscious breasts. 

Groaning, he slipped a hand down to fondle his bollocks, teasing himself before wrapping his fingers around his cock. It was a sad substitute for Hermione Granger, but it would have to do. 

He had worked himself up to a punishing rhythm when an urgent knock came at his door. Alarmed, he bolted up and out of bed, remembering the still possible threat of Mathilda’s potentially having poisoned his apprentice. Grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist, he threw open the door. 

Hermione was a mess. Her hair was in wild disarray, her face was flushed, her lips were plumped and rosy, and she was wearing nothing but a thin hotel bathrobe hastily tied around her waist. 

“ _ Let me in, _ ” she practically growled. He stepped backward on instinct and she followed him into the room, letting the door slam behind her. “I have a confession,” she said in a strangely breathless voice. Her chest was heaving, as if from exertion, and her voice was rough, as if with arousal. “But first I want you to know that it’s alright, and… that I’m really very,  _ very _ sorry. I probably could have handled the situation better, but here we are, and anyway… perhaps some good will come out of it when all is said and done.”

“ _ Miss Granger _ ,” Severus snapped in a shocked voice, staring down at the witch currently pacing his hotel room, her thin dressing gown gaping open to expose  _ far too much _ of the perfect skin between her pert, round breasts. “Can you tell me what the  _ hell _ you think you are doing? Waltzing in here so indecently to ramble about  _ Merlin knows _ what!”

She looked up at him at that. “Yes. Sorry. I will tell you, but first…” And suddenly she was striding right up to him, causing him to step backwards in alarm. She caught his wrists and held him still as she closed the distance between them, pressing herself against his chest and pushing up onto her tiptoes to press her lips against his mouth. 

In shock, he stumbled backwards, landing on the edge of the bed, and she followed him down, straddling his lap and catching his mouth again. It was like electricity had awakened in his veins. His whole body roused in awareness of her. His cock hardened so fast it made him lightheaded. 

She moaned. Finally, she had him exactly where she wanted him. Only the cheap hotel towel wrapped around his waist separated her from the erection already throbbing against her. On instinct she bucked against it, but to no avail. The phantom cock was purely inside her mind, put there by Mathilda’s potion. And somehow she needed to explain that to Severus Snape before she could have him. 

He groaned. “ _ Ohhh yes! _ ” She was crushed against his chest, her soft, full breasts squashed between them. Her hands trailed around his neck, tangling in his hair, and he allowed his own hands to cup her cotton-covered arse. He bucked beneath her. Why had he ever denied himself this perfect bliss? 

“Severus Snape, I want to make love to you right here right now.”

He answered with an unintelligible grunt in the affirmative. 

“But first,” she said between kisses, “I have to tell you… what happened… and you have to promise… not to be too angry.”

His hands moved to her shoulders, stilling her so that he could lean back and frown down at her. “Why should I be angry?” 

She gave him a guilty smile then cupped his face for another kiss. “You shouldn’t,” she said in an unconvincing tone, leaning forward to catch his bottom lip between her teeth. 

“ _ Hermione… _ ”

“Yes, alright… it’s just…” she hesitated, pulling back to let him see her devious expression. Her hands slipped down to the belt at her waist, slowly untying the loose bow as she began to speak again. “It turns out you were right about Mathilda.”

It took his mind a minute to process her words, captivated as he was by the sight of her undoing the last barrier to her impending nudity. “ _ What! _ ”

“Yes, quite right. In fact…” she caught his hands and placed them on her own bare thighs, relishing the way his cock jumped in response, “she most definitely slipped me something.”

“ _ WHAT?!” _

Her hands were trailing across his shoulders, dipping down his chest to fondle the dark hair there. “Yes and I’m sorry! I would have told you! But the nature of the erm… potion… put me in a bit of a predicament…”

“Out with it already!”

“Yes, yes, alright, only promise not to dwell on it too much right now, okay?” 

With that, she pulled the lapels of her dressing gown away to expose her breasts, as if in promise of a reward for good behavior. Severus’s eyes darted down to take in her perfect form. Her breasts were so full and firm, the dark tips hard with anticipation. His hands came up automatically to cup them gently and he moaned. 

“Oh yes,  _ yes, _ Severus. Just like that,” she whimpered as he pinched her nipples. “ _ Gods _ I want you.” 

“And you shall have me,” he growled, his voice an octave lower than usual, “as soon as you tell me what is the matter.”

“ _ Yes, _ ” she moaned. Reaching down to tug open the towel around his waist, Hermione wrapped her fingers around his cock. Together, they groaned aloud in ecstasy as the sudden sensation. “You see,” Hermione breathed as she marvelled at the feeling of his cock thrusting into her each time she stroked her hand down his throbbing length. “I can... feel…  _ this! _ ” 

Severus’s face was slack with pleasure, his mind a haze. It was nearly impossible to drag his thoughts away from the bliss of watching Hermione Granger gasp in ecstasy, rocking against him as she pleasured him with one of her soft little hands. “Feel what?” he breathed. His left hand continued to gently cup her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple, as his right hand trailed down beneath the folds of her bathrobe to cup her naked sex. 

She arched her back, gasping in pleasure as he slid his fingers between her folds. Her hand left his cock only long enough to lick her palm before returning to her ministrations with increased fervor. “Your cock…” she gasped, “inside me… right…  _ now! _ ”

She was so wet. Severus was tempted to take her now and wait for her explanations later. He dipped his finger down to collect her dew before returning his attention to the bud of nerves standing at desperate attention. “ _ Gods yes _ , Hermione. I plan to do just that. Just as soon as you tell me…”

“I  _ am  _ telling you! That’s what the potion does! It makes… me…  _ feel you _ … when you… when you…”

Understanding dawned. No wonder she had been so flustered all weekend. And especially today.  _ Arrrghhh! _ He would have been tempted to sulk in humiliation if he had not been so thoroughly captivated by Hermione Granger bringing herself to the brink of orgasm by pleasuring him with her hand. “Oh  _ FUCK! _ ” 

Severus adjusted his hand so that his thumb was rubbing circles around her clit while his fore and middle fingers pushed slowly inside of her, curving around to the sensitive place he knew he could find. 

“Oh  _ yes! Yes, yes, YES! _ ” 

Her rhythm faltered as her hips jerked and she threw her head back and cried out in ecstasy. Her body clenched around his fingers as pleasure wracked her body. Severus had never seen anything so beautiful. It was a good thing he had been inadvertently preparing for this all day, or else he might have ended this encounter right then and there. 

“Oh  _ gods, gods… _ ” she murmured weakly as her body relaxed. He pulled her against him, ignoring his throbbing cock as he savored the feel of her skin against his own; her breasts squashed against his chest. 

“I understand if you need to rest…” he began.

“No! No no no.” She pulled back to look up into his face. “I want  _ you,  _ Severus. I want the real thing.” And with that she pressed her lips against his own, kissing him tenderly, their lips overlapping gently, slowly. He teased her with the tip of his tongue and was delighted when her own darted out to brush against his. Soon, she was rocking against him again, reaching down to direct him as she adjusted her position and pushed him inside of herself. 

They moaned. He pushed her dressing gown off of her shoulders as she rocked gently, grinding against him in a savouring rhythm. His hands trailed across her body, cupping and squeezing hungrily. He tangled his fingers in her hair, gripping her fiercely, showing her some of his desperation as he bucked a little faster beneath her. Hermione gasped, pushing him back against the bed as she rode him faster and harder, her breath coming in shallow bursts. 

Severus couldn’t take it anymore. Wordlessly Summoning his wand, he used it to flip them over and move them up the bed in one fluid movement without disentangling their embrace. She gasped and her eyes widening in impressed surprise as he kissed her thoroughly and began to fuck her in earnest. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist and one hand tangled in his hair, the other clawing at his back as he buried his face against her neck, nipping at her tender skin. Soon, she was crying out again, her body clenching and pulsing around him and he let out a feral growl as he reached his own peak, coming inside of her in waves of perfect bliss. 

They collapsed into the sheets, sweating and panting and clinging to each other. Severus kissed her forehead, pulling her against his side. They rested like that for a long moment, listening to each other's labored breathing.

“Well,” he said at last, “thank Merlin you drank that champagne.”

…..

Mathilda Rothford tapped her foot impatiently as she waited in line to check out of the hotel on Monday morning. Her matching luggage was piled beside her (the presence of muggles meant she couldn't levitate  _ any  _ of it). 

When it was finally her turn to talk to the clerk, she let out an impatient sigh. "Well it's about time!"

"Name," said the clerk, unphased by her ire. 

"Mathilda Rothford."

The clerk's eyes popped open in surprise. "Mrs Rothford, you have a bit of mail came through today."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do I."

"Indeed ma'am, I've been instructed to deliver this one first." Reaching below the counter, the little man lifted an enormous, garish bouquet of neon-tinted daisies onto the counter and gestured to the attached note.

Mathilda scowled suspiciously at him, snatching up the bright green envelope. 

" _ Dearest Mathilda,"  _ it read  _ "Thank you so much for the gift! You will simply  _ have _ to send me the recipe! Yours truly, Hermione Granger." _

Mathilda was practically shaking with rage, fuming down at the note in her hands, when the clerk handed her another envelope. 

"This is the second bit, ma'am."

Snatching it out of his greasy little fingers, Mathilda ripped open the second envelope. This one was made of heavy, official-looking paper. She withdrew the enclosed document, scanning the page several times before she could register what it was: a court summons. 

They had filed suit.

"And the last one," said the increasingly excited clerk, handing her a rolled up scrap of parchment.

She seized it, nearly tearing it apart in her anger as she ripped it open. 

" _ Mrs Mathilda Rothford, Go fuck yourself. -SS _ "

…..

**_AN: So yeah a little different, silly little plot bunny that I needed to get out of my head lol. Speaking of Conventions, this is the first year I didn’t get to go to DragonCon in Atlanta (It was cancelled because of Covid because our Republican leadership screwed over our country to the tune of hundreds of thousands of preventable deaths, so yeah...) Hope you enjoyed it or at least had a good laugh! We all need more laughter nowadays._ **

**_Reviews are always appreciated!!!_ **


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